


Spellbound

by kansas_byrne



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Blood Drinking, Bondage, Choking, Face Fucking into unconciousness, Face-Fucking, M/M, Mind Control, Multi, Not Beta Read, PWP, Pre-Stanford, Rape/Non-con Elements, Sibling Incest, dead dove do not eat, evil!Sam
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-06
Updated: 2015-11-06
Packaged: 2018-04-30 06:54:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,789
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5154428
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kansas_byrne/pseuds/kansas_byrne
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam has just turned 18. He and Dean are spending the summer in a hot, boring motel by the sea. His brother starts to get distracted, and soon Sam thinks he's got to save Dean from some predatory creature. When Sam goes to confront it, he finds he cannot fight his true feelings for his brother, or the creature who has him under its spell.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Spellbound

Sam is tired of being ditched. It’s a hot and sticky June, even if it IS on the ocean, he just turned 18, and Stanford is a weighty mantle on him. He wants to spend more time with Dean before he leaves, before he tells him, because he knows that he will probably have to go the night he does. So he doesn’t say anything, and it feels like lead in his shoes. Dad has set this place up as a summer home base while he hunts something he won’t even talk about, leaving more times than he’s actually here. These days he doesn’t even leave cash. They have the Impala, and Sam thinks they could go anywhere they want, but Dean won’t just leave. Sam has tried. There’s no reason, he tells Dean, to stay. Dad won’t let them come on these weird hunts, why should they stay put? The whole country lies in front of them…the road is open and inviting.

But Dean won’t budge, and he fucks off and leaves Sam alone most of the time in their crappy motel that opens out on to a beach. So Sam watches the waves, hangs with surfers. He’s even met a girl or two, tanned and smiling, long legs and bikinis. They fumble in the sand next to the ever-present beach bonfire, sweating and thrusting together to the sound of the waves. It isn’t as satisfying as it could be, but Dean seems proud of him every time he comes home late with rumpled sandy hair, smelling like perfume. Sam grumbles, but it means that Dean touches him, ruffles his hair or pats him on the back. That is of course, when Dean is actually there, which is hardly ever. Sam wakes up every morning to find him in his underwear and a t-shirt, passed out too hard to rouse. He watches his brother’s ass as he sleeps, only half ashamed of how hard it makes him. He’s used to it by now, he can’t escape it, and he never has the luxury to just look at him like this. He wonders if he can get away with jerking off like this, close enough to touch him, but he never dares. Sam knows it’s fucked up and sick, but he’s made his peace with it. He’s always known he’s a freak. It isn’t like he has told Dean, and no one else needs to know.

Sometimes they take the Impala off to visit some fucked up hillbilly dive bar where Dean hustles pool, and Sam watches his back. Sometimes Dean will piss off the wrong redneck, and then they fight together, Sam surprising men twice his size with a sucker punch, rolling his eyes as Dean laughs like a loon behind him. He gets to touch Dean then, cleaning and sewing up cuts, Dean’s shirt off in the bathroom, the smell of whiskey and blood mixed with Dean’s sweat like a tang on the end of his tongue. Sam wants to lick the lone drop that travels down Dean’s neck. Dean always has faded bruises there that he won’t explain, and once a healing wound like a bite, but he waves Sam away with an irritated hand. Dean always passes out hard, and Sam spends a long time in the shower with his hand wrapped around his cock, trying not to shout too loudly as he comes.

Mid July, he notices that Dean’s stopped eating, and has definitely stopped looking at girls. He scoffs away concern, but Sam can see how tired he is, and oddly enough, how stiffly he holds himself. 

It’s almost August when Sam finally notices the pattern: most nights Dean’s been sneaking off to a room all the way on the other side of the motel. It takes a week to confirm it, and then Sam follows him, thanking the cheap owner for not replacing the parking lot lights. He lurks and watches Dean go into a room, and then leave it a few hours later. He seems shaky and quiet, a lot like he does after a hunt gone bad, or after Dad has really given him both barrels for fucking something up. When Sam gets back to the room, Dean passed out on the bed already. 

He stalks his brother like prey. He figures Dean is meeting someone in that room, but he’s never able to catch who it is without making his brother suspicious. Dean might be constantly ditching him for the girl who is staying in that room, but he keeps surprisingly close tabs on Sam, so he can’t stay until the woman leaves in the morning to see her. He can see a figure arrive on a motorcycle and go into the room after Dean has entered it, but he can’t get a good look at her in the dark. 

Sam decides to break in and look around in the small margin of time before Dean goes into the room. Maybe this woman has left some kind of clue there about herself. The secrecy is truly strange; Dean takes every opportunity to crow about his conquests, and Sam’s now actually starting to worry that his brother has run afoul of something that Sam might have to shoot. 

The lock is pathetically easy to break, and Sam slips into the room, looking around carefully. There is nothing in the entire room but a suitcase on the bed. Sam eyes it for a minute, and then opens it gingerly. Sex toys, lingerie, condoms, all clean and meticulously laid out. Sam tries not to disturb them too much. He doesn’t have a lot of time to ponder this before he hears a key in the lock. Without really thinking, he ducks into the half open closet. He turns around in a panic for a second, looking for a place in here to hide, before realizing that the door slides into the wall but seems to be jammed, giving him a tiny alcove where he can stay unseen. He crouches down, pressing himself all the way into the darkness, cursing his need to know everything. 

Sam recognizes the sound of his brother’s gait as he comes into the hotel room. He can hear him taking off his boots, which he then chucks into the closet. Dean’s jacket gets hung on a hook inches from Sam’s head. Sam could reach out and touch him, if he wanted. He briefly entertains himself with how much he’d startle Dean if he did.

Maybe he _should_ just come out, Sam thinks. Take the inevitable punch in the arm and get shoved out onto his ass on the sidewalk. Hiding in here is ridiculous. Just as he comes to the decision to do that, he hears the zipper on the suitcase and panics. He cannot be here. He can’t come out of this hiding space, it won’t work. He starts to pray that his brother will use the bathroom so he can escape before the woman arrives and he has to hear his brother using some of the … inventive…objects he saw in the case on her. He breaks out into a sweat, rubbing his hands on the thighs of his jeans, and longs for the bonfire on the beach and the simplicity of not knowing that suitcase exists.

Sure enough, he can hear Dean go in the bathroom, and he fights down the urge to bolt for it, waiting for a very long minute before sneaking a look around the closet door and then slowly extricating himself from the snarl of Dean’s coat and his boots, making a break for it. 

He is halfway across the room when the front door starts opening, and he flings himself back into the closet, scrunching down as small as he possibly can. 

Sam regrets it immediately. Now he can’t just introduce himself to this woman and leave, now he’s in the damn closet like a perv, and explaining this isn’t going to go over well. Dean will be pissed. He just has to wait in the closet until Dean is done, and find a time to leave. 

Carefully, he re-arranges his body so he’s not so cramped, and leans his head against the door, thinking about his brother, and trying to ignore the quiet kissing noises he can hear. He can’t afford to have Dean so angry at him now…not when he’s so close to leaving. Sam needs this time with Dean, as limited as it is, to stave off this feeling of finality that going to school has. He doesn’t want to lose Dean. 

Sam is jolted from his reverie by the change in the rustling noises from the bedroom, and it takes him a minute to realize that the reason something sounds off is because the voice he hears is masculine, but distinctly NOT Dean. Carefully, he sneaks a look, keeping himself low to the ground, and mostly underneath Dean’s jacket for cover. 

The world tilts a little, and Sam feels for a moment as if he is floating out of his own body. Dean kneels on the floor, wearing only pink satin panties. His arms are behind his back, quite expertly bound with leather straps, wrists to elbows. A man with pale hair and skin wearing an elegantly tailored black suit, has his fingers buried in Dean’s hair, holding his head still as he thrusts his cock into Dean’s mouth. He whispers encouragement to Dean, coaxing his throat open to let him fuck deep and hard. Sam stares, transfixed, as the man in the suit takes Dean’s face, watches as Dean lets him without a fight. The peaceful, almost dreamy look in Dean’s eyes bothers Sam a little. He clenches his fists, not sure what to do, not sure if Dean wants this. Should he rescue him? Would Dean thank him, or be pissed that he was here in the first place, and embarrassed, and fuck. God help him, he loves watching Dean be face-fucked. Sam bites his own hand hard enough to taste blood. 

Then the man in the suit starts to make urgent noises, and Sam forgets how to breathe. He’s going to come in Dean’s throat, and Sam wants to watch it. All thoughts of rescue fly out of his head like startled birds, eyes glued to where the man in the suit violates his brother’s face. The man speeds up, thrusting hard and carelessly into Dean’s throat, making him choke and cough without letting him get a breath. Sam can hear him whisper, _‘yes, yes, yes’_ , each hip snap getting sharper and less coordinated. His knuckles turn even whiter where they clutch at Dean’s hair. 

Sam’s whole body seems to tense, as if could come himself, begging the man silently to do it. He wants to see Dean’s throat pumped full, he wants to hear this man shout as he releases. He nearly tears his hair out in frustration when he pulls out of Dean, clearly just on the edge. 

The man in the suit pushes Dean’s face sideways into the floor, leaving his ass thrust up into the air. Going to the bed, he produces a wicked looking paddle from the suitcase. Sam starts, instinct propelling him forward, intending to leap from the closet to save Dean. 

He suddenly realizes that Dean is looking at him, and Sam freezes as they lock gazes. The look in Dean’s eye promises mayhem. Sam doesn’t move. The man in the suit brings the paddle down on Dean’s ass, and he shouts. He does it again. And again, and again. Tears run down Dean’s cheeks, and he gasps for breath, but he never stops looking Sam in the eyes. Finally, the man in the suit crouches down near Dean’s ass. 

_“Are you wearing it, my lovely?”_ His hands cradle each cheek, causing Dean to gasp and wince. He pulls the panties down, revealing the butt plug Dean has in his ass. The man in the suit smiles, and wiggles it a little, making Dean bang his head on the floor once and moan. 

_“Good little princess,”_ the man says softly. _“Wearing this for me all day, you should be nice and stretched. I’m going to go change. But before I go….”_

He retrieves a very large ball gag from the suitcase of wonders. Dean fights it, whimpering a little, but the man gets his jaw open and forces the ball gag into it, securing it behind his head. Tears run down Dean’s cheeks, and the man gently pets his hair for a moment before leaving for the bathroom. 

Sam moves to get out of the closet. Dean finds his gaze again, shaking his head sharply before resting it again on the carpet tiredly. Sam opens his mouth to whisper, but shuts it again when Dean glares. Sam settles back down, and once he seems satisfied that Sam isn’t going to move, Dean closes his eyes and waits. The peaceful dreamy look comes back to his face, even though his jaw Is forced wide open. He settles his legs a little wider, and Sam realizes that Dean doesn’t seem to care that Sam can see him like this. 

So Sam feasts his eyes. Dean’s knees spread wide open, his ass presented so high that his shoulders and face are holding him upright, and that buttplug…Sam shivers. Dean was wearing that all day. When he had breakfast with Sam, when they went driving up the coast looking for the perfect burger…Dean had this in his ass the whole time. Sam is so hard that it’s painful. He rubs himself through his pants, staring at Dean’s ass. He should feel guilty, but he just can’t. The situation is so absurd that he can’t gather the emotion together. He just wants. And Dean seems so calm. It’s okay. This will be okay. 

The man comes back from the bathroom, naked now, and almost ethereally beautiful. He pauses briefly to drink in the sight before him, then rousing Dean with one elegant finger traced down Dean’s spine. He helps Dean to his feet and arranges him into the same situation on the bed; spreading his legs wide, his head down, hanging over the bed a little. Dean faces forward, putting him in the perfect position to see Sam, locking eyes once again. 

The man eases the plug out of Dean, getting a long muffled moan from around the gag. The man chuckles, _“Don’t worry, princess, you’ll get what you want.”_

He carefully opens a condom, and then rolls it on. _“I have been thinking about your beautiful ass all day, my boy.”_

Taking a bottle of lubricant from the suitcase, he rolls some around in his hands, reaching under Dean and playing with his cock, gliding slickly up and down. Dean thrusts urgently, making him laugh and increase the speed until Dean is panting through his nose, desperately trying to get enough friction to come. Naturally, this is when the man stops with a little clucking of his tongue. He gets behind Dean and pushes into him all in one stroke, making him yell into the gag. Sam can’t tell if it is pleasure, or pain or both, but Dean stares him right in the eyes while he does it. 

Sam’s hand press against his own cock through his jeans, watching with wide eyes as his brother is fucked quite thoroughly. The man holds Dean’s hips in a bruising grip, thrusting without mercy as Dean screams wordlessly into the gag. Dean’s gaze only breaks when his eyes roll back into his head, swept up in his master’s pleasure when he comes, balls deep in Dean, pumping into the condom. 

He climbs off Dean and steps back onto the floor, peeling the condom off and disposing it into the trash. Sam swears his heart stops as he hears, _“You can come out of there now, young man, I’ve had my fill.”_

He stays put, squishing himself back into the darkness of the closet, but a grip of steel closes on his arm and pulls him bodily into the room. 

The man makes that tongue clucking sound again as he looks Sam up and down. Sam can hear Dean freaking out on the bed. The man turns his gaze on Dean, who, much to Sam’s amazement settles instantly. 

_“I’m not going to hurt him, princess, but I **do** think you need to be a little more clear headed.”_ He snaps his fingers, and Dean's eyes go from dreamy to furiously clear. The man runs his slender fingers over Sam’s crotch, a slow smile spreading as he feels the length of his hardness. Sam bucks involuntarily into his hand, and tries to squirm out of his grip. The man caresses Sam’s face and looks into his eyes; Sam can’t quite place their color, but he feels very calm. He knows it isn’t right, but he doesn’t care. 

“Please,” he whispers, not sure what he’s asking for. The man smiles indulgently and looks back at Dean, whose eyes are promising murder. It just makes the man smile more. 

_“This is your brother, isn’t it, princess? I think he’d quite like to fuck you.”_ Sam can feel those hands opening his fly, caress his cock over, then under his underwear. Yes, he thinks, fuzzily, please yes. He bucks his hips and rolls his eyes back into his head. The man kisses him, and his lips are a soft heaven. Nothing matters but pleasing him. His head feels light, he’s going to float away. _“Boy king. Look at your brother.”_

Sam looks at Dean, sees the anger in his eyes, and it makes him harder. He tries to wake himself up, he knows that isn’t right. But… “I want his mouth,” he hears himself say, and shudders. He does, he wants to feel Dean’s throat around him. The man’s laugh is like deep cool water. He reaches out and unbuckles Dean’s gag. 

Dean coughs, spit running down his chin. “Sam,”He rasps, “Stop..” He struggles with his bonds. 

“Let him go,” Dean thrashes against the bindings holding him, trying to rise up off his knees. 

The man curls his hand in Dean’s hair and holds his head in place. Sam peels off his clothing, he’s floating in the man’s eyes. He is hard and leaking, and he presses his cock against Dean’s lips. Dean fights it, turns his head, but the man’s grip is like steel. 

_“Be a good princess, and I might let you come,”_ he whispers, pulling an involuntary needy groan from Dean. He opens his mouth, tears gathering in the corners of his eyes. 

Sam pushes into his brother’s mouth, and it’s so wet. So hot, so good, it’s everything he’s ever wanted all at once. He keeps going, feeling Dean’s throat close around his cock, and hearing him gag. He presses, pushing until he is all the way into Dean’s throat. Dean can’t breathe, he’s struggling, and it makes him want more. He starts fucking Dean’s mouth. Dean makes deep pleading choking noises, and it spurs Sam to thrust harder. The man lets go of Dean’s hair to climb up behind him. Sam looks up at him, panting like a dog, seeking approval. The man smiles at him and Sam feels like electricity is playing through his blood. The man grabs Dean’s hips and pushes hard into Dean’s ass, making him buck. He is sobbing now, heaving and trying to breathe. 

_“Good,”_ the man’s voice is soothing and exciting at the same time. He’s pleased, Sam’s made him happy. He feels another spark of pleasure jolt through him. He’s made the man happy. 

_“Don’t come yet, princeling,”_ he orders breathlessly, _“Wait for me.”_ Sam growls, slowing his hips. He’s so close, it’s so good. He can do what he’s told, but fuck, it feels like torture. He pulls out a little, and Dean desperately sucks in air. The man grins at Sam, and he thinks he might be going mad. He has so many sharp teeth, and Sam just wants to see them draw blood. He says it, and the man laughs in delight, his eyes shining. Sam thinks he might love him. 

He thrusts back into Dean’s throat, and Dean chokes. And again, and again, feral and wild, he looks back up for permission. The man is close too, but he shakes his head. Sam howls. The man reaches under and jacks Dean’s cock hard, making his body buck and jerk under them. They thrust into Dean in the same rhythm, as if they were one person. Dean comes, his whole body taut like a bow. Sam lets him breathe again as a reward, getting a long filthy kiss from his master, and a chuckle when Sam whispers his secret desire into his mouth. He opens his sharp mouth and bites Dean on the shoulder. Sam licks the blood from his mouth, thrusting back into Dean's throat and coming, balls deep, pulsing and filling him. It spills out of Dean’s mouth and runs down his throat and onto the carpet. Sam pulls out of his mouth and spends the rest into his hair as Dean passes out. He wonders if his master has finished too, but he seems too intent on drinking Dean’s blood, sucking hard, letting it run down his chin. He lets Sam have some more, cutting his own arm and feeding it to him through kisses over his brothers silent body. His blood tastes like ecstasy. He knows he should care, but he doesn't. The pale blue light of dawn filters through the cracks in the motel curtains, causing his master to smile and caress Sam's cheek, then get off the bed, eyes tinged with regret. 

Sam checks Dean’s pulse dispassionately. Dean isn’t dead, but he isn’t awake either. The man kisses Sam and traces patterns on his skin with his deft fingers, making him wish for more time. He begs for more, but gets only a smile in return. Together they wash Dean. They release him from his bonds and rub life back into his limbs. Sam dresses Dean’s wound, and pulls his boxers on, wrapping him in blankets and placing kisses on his forehead. The man gets dressed, and Sam cries, begs him not to leave, even though he wants nothing more in this world. He feels exhaustion throb behind his eyes. A part of him is raging inside the gossamer cage imprisoning it. He's tired of fighting.

The man laughs, and presses a kiss to each eyelid. _“Sweet prince. Sleep now. You will see me again, this I promise.”_

So Sam sleeps, curled around his brother. Dawn bathes them in golden light. 

**Author's Note:**

> Started as a dream by [Grumpyphoenix](https://archiveofourown.org/users/grumpyphoenix). We re-worked it together, and then she gave it to me to keep on my page, for reasons of her own.


End file.
